Eastusia
17-09-2005, 22:27
Kesomezza, Disputed Border Territory, Eastusia.
The small bus growled its way up the mountain side, a lump of icy blue metal on the side of the sheer, glass-like mountain. The road hacked into the side and cracking badly due to many years of neglect. According to the calendar, it had just turned into October, but that didn’t matter, here in Kesomezza it was snow, 12 months of the year, just endless white, a strange phenomenon of the area. This mountain that the bus growled up was just one among a thousand like it, forming great ridges and peaks and foothills and all other kinds of Knowles.
The driver muttered to himself as he knocked the ancient vehicle down another gear, and clicked the heating up. Along the passageway of the badly battered bus sat various items of luggage, prams, suitcases, boxes, crates, anything that should not be put on the roof rack because of the sub-zero temperatures, which was pretty much all of it, was inside of the vehicle. The people that owned these meager possessions sat, wrapped up in furry clothing, even the other species that would not need clothing due to their fur, or whether this was their normal environment, were wrapped up in at least two layers of clothing. Humans, Gorons and Kokiri were all piled onto the bus. All trying to keep warm until they reached their destination.
The bus’s course leveled out as it rounded yet another bend in the road and, with a slight curse from the driver, was forced to stop due to men blocking their path, men with guns.
One crunched through the snow, his PPSH-56 slung over his neck and dangling down his front. His clothes were covered with a thin layer of ice, and he was shivering, despite the fact he was clearly wearing more than three layers of clothing. He approached the driver’s side of the bus and knocked on the window with a thick glove which made a dull thudding sound. The window squeaked down and the driver, with his weather beaten face peered wearily down at the soldier who stood there.
“Yes?” he said wearily.
The soldier saluted, he was young, probably only around 15, not even old enough to shave. But in order to defend their state, the provincial government of Kesomezza had ordered everyone from 14 to 30 to grab a gun and don the uniform, attack from the much larger region known as “Eastusia” was apparently a concern, evidently they thought the sheer mountain ranges that broke the region between Eastusia and Kesomezza would not stop the “barbarous Death Worshippers.”
“I need to see your pass before I can let you through Comrade.” Replied the toy-soldier, one of his hands resting on the side of the bus door, the other casually on top of his PPSH-56. The Driver sighed and handed him a piece of laminated paper. The Toy-soldier peered at it, went to the front of the vehicle, peered at the front, then back to the side and peered at the Driver, the Driver peered at the Toy-Soldier and the Passengers peered at both, they wanted to get going and keep going before they all freezed to death after all.
The toy-soldier nodded and waved a bit further up, the half-track that blocked the entrance to the tunnel through the mountain lurched forward and cleared the road.
The driver nodded and wound the window back up, and knocked the failing heating system up another notch. He thumbed a button on the dashboard and the lights burst into life as they rumbled inside the long passageway through solid rock. Most people had been silent on the journey, but now they began to murmur about things, chit-chat, hopes, needs, wants, hunger. A Goron offered round a bag of precious stones for people to eat, but unless you were one of the large creatures you tended not to chow down on stones. The Goron feeling a little peckish himself popped a small ruby into his gaping maw and chewed thoughtfully. The tiny mud-covered bus rolled gently to a stop as it came out of the tunnel into the giant plateau, a city of small, mostly wood built buildings filled the entire bowl.
”Here’s your stop folks, Kesomezza city, welcome to the wonderland.” Mumbled the driver rather unenthusiastically.
The mood in the bus immediately changed again, one to a sort of subdued euphoria. The child-like Kokiri began to beam and grab their smaller backpacks, the Gorons bumped their way off and reached up for the giant bags that contained their luggage which were strapped to the roof, and the humans amongst them grabbed their suitcases and bags and back-packs.
The Driver sighed as the door clattered shut behind him. He yawned and stretched a little, then began swishing his tail from side to side, it had been a long journey of some eight hours and it had gone numb. He took off his cap and laid it down on the side table and flicked up the cat-like ears atop his head. He stretched his back till he heard it click, then pushed open the door to the kitchen.
”Papa? Is that you?” came a small, timid voice.
”Yes Sasha, it’s me.” Replied the Neko, failing to stifle a yawn.
He was then thrown to the floor by the blur that whacked into him “Papa!” came the voice again. With a rather audible “oof” the male Neko hit the floor with a thump.
”Sasha, what have we said about that?” mumbled the, now winded, Neko Male.
”Sorry Papa.” Pouted Sasha, her little ears flicked flat amongst her black hair and her green eyes glistening slightly.
”It’s ok Sasha, just don’t do it again, ok?”
”Yes Papa.”
The Male Neko dusted himself down a little, then went over to the small table that sat by the window of the kitchen. On it was an envelope, and on that was his address:
Mr. K. Samovera.
25 Hatchel Lane.
Davison EF101.
Kesomezza city.
He sighed and opened it, ripping the top off roughly and pulling out the contents, in it were a slip of paper, and a roll of about 200 Dacha’s.
Dear Kris,
How’s tricks? Here’s the debt money I owe you, sorry it’s taken so long, but the Republic’s army takes so freaking long to pay us, and I gotta have enough to survive you know? Anyway, I’m fine but I don’t like the real kids they keep wheeling in all the time to train up, kinda freaky when half of them have never shaved. Sorry bud, but I gotta go, got to teach this new lot how to use a PPSH-56.
Your Friend Zim Rickardson, Drill Sergeant, 606th Infantry Div..
Kris smiled and put the letter down and counted out the bills.
”Who’s it from Papa?” Asked Sasha, her ears flicked up in curiosity.
”Uncle Zim, my little sweetie.”
”Yay!” Sasha smiled “How is he?”
”He’s good Sasha, real good.” Kris replied and yawned loudly again. “Ok hunnie, I’m going to go get some sleep, you be a good girl for daddy, ok?”
”Ok Daddy.” She smiled her sweet little smile and bounded off into the living room where she turned on the radio and listening to some Kesomezzan Folk Music.
With a smile Kris walked up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, he yawned loudly again and flopped down onto his bed and immediately fell asleep.
It’s dark… I don’t know where I am, there are trees, trees everywhere I can hear panting, someone is shouting at me. But I can’t hear them properly, Sasha is with me, but she looks older, she’s carrying a gun, its her shouting at me. She’s yelling at me to keep running, to look out for whatever is after us. I don’t know what is going on, we’re running, I’m scared, tired and my breathing is ragged, there are branches scratching at my legs, my tail gets caught on bracken and I panic, I cry out, but Sasha is no longer there. A… a thing comes out of the darkness; it wears a mask, a spiked helmet with a skull faceplate. It grabs me roughly and drags me back into the woods, I struggle but he is stronger, there are more of them coming out of the forest, as if out of nowhere. I somehow break free and the man that was dragging me jerks and falls down. I run blindly. Then the ground vanishes beneath me….
Lenz, Eastusia proper
”My dear, sweet comrades,” spoke the figure in an almost deathly whisper, the microphone near to the speakers face, “I have discovered that there are spies from Kesomezza amongst us. They plot their evil deeds against us, they are spies and thought criminals, and will destroy our nation, our people, our pride unless we turn on them.” The face of the speaker’s eyes had glowered on all the screens of the cinemas, the streets, the homes, the voice echoed on wireless sets to nearly a billion souls. The face was of a strange man, his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, and his greying hair gave him an almost grandfatherly look, his voice hissed out.
”What should we do to Thought Criminals and Spies and Traitors?”
”Death! Death! Death!” screamed the fanatical crowd below him.
”Yes, and it is so that I have decided, we are preparing to destroy the threat that stands against us, we,” he raised his hands up “The great people’s of Eastusia shall rise like the great bone dragon and destroy those who plot against her.” There was another cheer, and a banging of boots, and jeering and yelling and screaming from the crowd below, the speaker turned from the podium and walked slowly away, the screens around the cities changed to the flag, a horrific piece on engineering, a skull with white glowing eyes that were positioned just so they always followed you around a room, underneath in the older writing style were the words “Death Worship”.
The cheering got higher and higher and louder and louder, then a military tune started. It flashed back to regular programming. People who had been swept up into the euphoria suddenly stopped and regained themselves, they continued their daily business as of nothing had happened, but they had a powerful urge to destroy anything Kesomezzan.
The small bus growled its way up the mountain side, a lump of icy blue metal on the side of the sheer, glass-like mountain. The road hacked into the side and cracking badly due to many years of neglect. According to the calendar, it had just turned into October, but that didn’t matter, here in Kesomezza it was snow, 12 months of the year, just endless white, a strange phenomenon of the area. This mountain that the bus growled up was just one among a thousand like it, forming great ridges and peaks and foothills and all other kinds of Knowles.
The driver muttered to himself as he knocked the ancient vehicle down another gear, and clicked the heating up. Along the passageway of the badly battered bus sat various items of luggage, prams, suitcases, boxes, crates, anything that should not be put on the roof rack because of the sub-zero temperatures, which was pretty much all of it, was inside of the vehicle. The people that owned these meager possessions sat, wrapped up in furry clothing, even the other species that would not need clothing due to their fur, or whether this was their normal environment, were wrapped up in at least two layers of clothing. Humans, Gorons and Kokiri were all piled onto the bus. All trying to keep warm until they reached their destination.
The bus’s course leveled out as it rounded yet another bend in the road and, with a slight curse from the driver, was forced to stop due to men blocking their path, men with guns.
One crunched through the snow, his PPSH-56 slung over his neck and dangling down his front. His clothes were covered with a thin layer of ice, and he was shivering, despite the fact he was clearly wearing more than three layers of clothing. He approached the driver’s side of the bus and knocked on the window with a thick glove which made a dull thudding sound. The window squeaked down and the driver, with his weather beaten face peered wearily down at the soldier who stood there.
“Yes?” he said wearily.
The soldier saluted, he was young, probably only around 15, not even old enough to shave. But in order to defend their state, the provincial government of Kesomezza had ordered everyone from 14 to 30 to grab a gun and don the uniform, attack from the much larger region known as “Eastusia” was apparently a concern, evidently they thought the sheer mountain ranges that broke the region between Eastusia and Kesomezza would not stop the “barbarous Death Worshippers.”
“I need to see your pass before I can let you through Comrade.” Replied the toy-soldier, one of his hands resting on the side of the bus door, the other casually on top of his PPSH-56. The Driver sighed and handed him a piece of laminated paper. The Toy-soldier peered at it, went to the front of the vehicle, peered at the front, then back to the side and peered at the Driver, the Driver peered at the Toy-Soldier and the Passengers peered at both, they wanted to get going and keep going before they all freezed to death after all.
The toy-soldier nodded and waved a bit further up, the half-track that blocked the entrance to the tunnel through the mountain lurched forward and cleared the road.
The driver nodded and wound the window back up, and knocked the failing heating system up another notch. He thumbed a button on the dashboard and the lights burst into life as they rumbled inside the long passageway through solid rock. Most people had been silent on the journey, but now they began to murmur about things, chit-chat, hopes, needs, wants, hunger. A Goron offered round a bag of precious stones for people to eat, but unless you were one of the large creatures you tended not to chow down on stones. The Goron feeling a little peckish himself popped a small ruby into his gaping maw and chewed thoughtfully. The tiny mud-covered bus rolled gently to a stop as it came out of the tunnel into the giant plateau, a city of small, mostly wood built buildings filled the entire bowl.
”Here’s your stop folks, Kesomezza city, welcome to the wonderland.” Mumbled the driver rather unenthusiastically.
The mood in the bus immediately changed again, one to a sort of subdued euphoria. The child-like Kokiri began to beam and grab their smaller backpacks, the Gorons bumped their way off and reached up for the giant bags that contained their luggage which were strapped to the roof, and the humans amongst them grabbed their suitcases and bags and back-packs.
The Driver sighed as the door clattered shut behind him. He yawned and stretched a little, then began swishing his tail from side to side, it had been a long journey of some eight hours and it had gone numb. He took off his cap and laid it down on the side table and flicked up the cat-like ears atop his head. He stretched his back till he heard it click, then pushed open the door to the kitchen.
”Papa? Is that you?” came a small, timid voice.
”Yes Sasha, it’s me.” Replied the Neko, failing to stifle a yawn.
He was then thrown to the floor by the blur that whacked into him “Papa!” came the voice again. With a rather audible “oof” the male Neko hit the floor with a thump.
”Sasha, what have we said about that?” mumbled the, now winded, Neko Male.
”Sorry Papa.” Pouted Sasha, her little ears flicked flat amongst her black hair and her green eyes glistening slightly.
”It’s ok Sasha, just don’t do it again, ok?”
”Yes Papa.”
The Male Neko dusted himself down a little, then went over to the small table that sat by the window of the kitchen. On it was an envelope, and on that was his address:
Mr. K. Samovera.
25 Hatchel Lane.
Davison EF101.
Kesomezza city.
He sighed and opened it, ripping the top off roughly and pulling out the contents, in it were a slip of paper, and a roll of about 200 Dacha’s.
Dear Kris,
How’s tricks? Here’s the debt money I owe you, sorry it’s taken so long, but the Republic’s army takes so freaking long to pay us, and I gotta have enough to survive you know? Anyway, I’m fine but I don’t like the real kids they keep wheeling in all the time to train up, kinda freaky when half of them have never shaved. Sorry bud, but I gotta go, got to teach this new lot how to use a PPSH-56.
Your Friend Zim Rickardson, Drill Sergeant, 606th Infantry Div..
Kris smiled and put the letter down and counted out the bills.
”Who’s it from Papa?” Asked Sasha, her ears flicked up in curiosity.
”Uncle Zim, my little sweetie.”
”Yay!” Sasha smiled “How is he?”
”He’s good Sasha, real good.” Kris replied and yawned loudly again. “Ok hunnie, I’m going to go get some sleep, you be a good girl for daddy, ok?”
”Ok Daddy.” She smiled her sweet little smile and bounded off into the living room where she turned on the radio and listening to some Kesomezzan Folk Music.
With a smile Kris walked up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, he yawned loudly again and flopped down onto his bed and immediately fell asleep.
It’s dark… I don’t know where I am, there are trees, trees everywhere I can hear panting, someone is shouting at me. But I can’t hear them properly, Sasha is with me, but she looks older, she’s carrying a gun, its her shouting at me. She’s yelling at me to keep running, to look out for whatever is after us. I don’t know what is going on, we’re running, I’m scared, tired and my breathing is ragged, there are branches scratching at my legs, my tail gets caught on bracken and I panic, I cry out, but Sasha is no longer there. A… a thing comes out of the darkness; it wears a mask, a spiked helmet with a skull faceplate. It grabs me roughly and drags me back into the woods, I struggle but he is stronger, there are more of them coming out of the forest, as if out of nowhere. I somehow break free and the man that was dragging me jerks and falls down. I run blindly. Then the ground vanishes beneath me….
Lenz, Eastusia proper
”My dear, sweet comrades,” spoke the figure in an almost deathly whisper, the microphone near to the speakers face, “I have discovered that there are spies from Kesomezza amongst us. They plot their evil deeds against us, they are spies and thought criminals, and will destroy our nation, our people, our pride unless we turn on them.” The face of the speaker’s eyes had glowered on all the screens of the cinemas, the streets, the homes, the voice echoed on wireless sets to nearly a billion souls. The face was of a strange man, his glasses were perched on the edge of his nose, and his greying hair gave him an almost grandfatherly look, his voice hissed out.
”What should we do to Thought Criminals and Spies and Traitors?”
”Death! Death! Death!” screamed the fanatical crowd below him.
”Yes, and it is so that I have decided, we are preparing to destroy the threat that stands against us, we,” he raised his hands up “The great people’s of Eastusia shall rise like the great bone dragon and destroy those who plot against her.” There was another cheer, and a banging of boots, and jeering and yelling and screaming from the crowd below, the speaker turned from the podium and walked slowly away, the screens around the cities changed to the flag, a horrific piece on engineering, a skull with white glowing eyes that were positioned just so they always followed you around a room, underneath in the older writing style were the words “Death Worship”.
The cheering got higher and higher and louder and louder, then a military tune started. It flashed back to regular programming. People who had been swept up into the euphoria suddenly stopped and regained themselves, they continued their daily business as of nothing had happened, but they had a powerful urge to destroy anything Kesomezzan.